The sun rose over Vallenwood City.
Albert sat on the windowsill of his room, gazing at the brightening sky. His eyes were red. The dark circles beneath them had become like war paint—never fading, only growing darker.
Outside, the sound of whoosh... BOOM! still echoed. The enemy trebuchets worked like factory machinery, hurling stones day and night, relentless.
Since the major assault a week ago, they'd never again tried to breach the walls. Just a constant rain of stones and arrows, ceaseless, exhausting, killing slowly.
Thirty-seven people had died this week. Not in great battles—crushed by stones, struck by stray arrows, or collapsing from exhaustion and falling from the walls. Slow, pitiful, devoid of glory.
Albert could no longer stand.
Not from wounds—his injuries were beginning to heal, scars from stitches here and there. But from something else. Something inside his head that kept spinning, kept screaming, kept showing him faces he didn't want to see.
He'd tried to stand this morning. Just to walk to the wall, to assess the situation. His legs had given way after three steps. He'd fallen, his knees striking the stone floor, and that was where Luise had found him.
Now, he sat at the window, unable to go any farther.
Luise entered without knocking. In her hands, a bowl of warm porridge and a cup of water. Her face was tired—dark circles had also begun forming beneath her violet eyes. But her gaze remained sharp, still vigilant.
"Eat," she said, setting the bowl on the windowsill.
Albert stared at the porridge. "I'm not hungry."
"I didn't ask." Luise sat on the floor, leaning her back against the wall beside the window. "You need to eat, whether you want to or not. Your body needs it."
"My body is useless now."
Luise didn't answer. Just sat in silence.
Whoosh... BOOM! Another stone struck the eastern wall. From a distance, faint shouts—perhaps someone was wounded, perhaps not. Hard to distinguish anymore.
"How are the troops?" Albert finally asked.
"Still holding. Hilda's leading the archers on the north wall—they're out of arrows, so now they're using slings to throw small stones. It's something, at least the enemy can't approach comfortably." Luise spoke while peeling a small apple with her dagger. Her movements were slow, measured. "Sir Varin is managing logistics—our food will last two more weeks, maybe three if we reduce rations. Lord Harald sent another messenger south, but no word yet."
"Leo?"
Luise almost smiled. "That kid... strange. After seeing you on the wall last week, he was silent for three days. Didn't talk, just worked—helping in the recovery tents, carrying corpses, digging graves. Yesterday I saw him teaching children in the city how to read and write."
Albert frowned. "Reading and writing?"
"He said, 'If we're going to die anyway, at least die knowing our own names.'" Luise peeled the apple until the skin fell in one long, unbroken strip. "I don't know what he meant."
"I need to go to the wall," Albert said, half-rising.
Luise set down her knife. Her hand caught Albert's wrist—a firm grip, but not painful.
"Sit."
"I need to—"
"Sit down, Albert."
He sat. Not from fear, but because he was too exhausted to resist.
Luise took a breath. "Listen, you can't fight in this condition. Your body is completely exhausted. Your mind—" she paused, choosing her words, "—your mind is unwell too. If you force yourself to the wall, you'll only die pointlessly, or worse, you'll get your own men killed."
"They need a leader."
"They need you alive, not a walking corpse." Luise held out the peeled apple. "Eat this first. Later I'll bring Lord Harald's report."
Albert accepted the apple. Its taste... sweet.
Luise stood. Before leaving, she paused at the door.
"Albert."
He turned.
"I'll look after your unit. You look after yourself first."
The door closed. Albert sat at the window, biting into the apple, watching the sky grow brighter.
Whoosh... BOOM! Another stone struck the wall.
***
The following week passed in a strange routine.
Mornings, Luise entered with breakfast—porridge, bread and cheese, sometimes fruit if available. She sat on the floor, reporting the situation at the wall, casualty numbers, enemy movements. Albert listened, sometimes offering advice, sometimes just silent.
Afternoons, Luise went to the wall, leading the unit, relieving Hilda who needed rest, or Sir Varin who managed logistics. Albert sat at the window, staring outside, hearing the sounds of distant battle without being able to join.
Evenings, Luise returned with dinner and sat beside him again. Sometimes they talked—about the past, about their respective villages, about small things unrelated to war. Sometimes they just sat in silence, listening to the unending stone impacts.
Nights, Albert slept—or tried to sleep—with those sounds in his ears. Sometimes nightmares came. Sometimes he woke with a scream caught in his throat. And every time, Luise was already beside the bed, her hand on his shoulder, whispering calming words.
"I'm here. You're safe. No one's attacking."
Like a mantra. Like a promise.
One night, Albert woke with his heart pounding. That dream again—the burning village, the woman screaming, the drone overhead. He sat up, breath ragged, sweat soaking his body.
And Luise was already there.
"I'm here," she whispered. Her hand reached for Albert's, gripping it tightly. "Look at me. Focus on my voice."
Albert looked at her. Those violet eyes—in the darkness, in the midst of nightmares, in the midst of all this chaos—were the only point of calm.
"Breathe," Luise whispered. "In... hold... out. Follow me."
They breathed together. One. Two. Three. Four.
Slowly, Albert's heart began to slow. Sweat began to dry. His hand—still gripping Luise's—began to relax.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"For what?"
"I... I should be stronger."
Luise shook her head. "You are strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever known." She exhaled. "But being strong doesn't mean you never fall. What matters is getting back up after you fall."
Albert looked at her. In his chest, something stirred—something he'd been suppressing, burying, forgetting all this time.
"Luise."
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
Luise smiled. A small, rare smile that made her violet eyes shine even in the darkness.
"You're welcome."
They sat there, hands still clasped, until dawn arrived.
***
On the twenty-first day of the siege, everything changed.
Albert was sitting at the window—his new habit—when Luise ran in. Her face was different. Not panicked, not afraid. But something else. Something he hadn't seen on that face in weeks.
Hope.
"Albert." Her breath came in gasps. "They're here!"
Albert stared at her. "Who?"
"Reinforcements from the south. Lord Harald received a messenger ten minutes ago—eighty thousand soldiers, an hour away."
Albert stood. His legs wobbled, but he forced them steady.
"You're sure?"
"The messenger is still in the meeting room. You can see for yourself."
Albert stepped toward the door. Every step felt heavy, but he kept moving. Behind him, Luise followed, her hands ready to catch him if he fell.
In the meeting room, the atmosphere was transformed. Lord Harald stood before the map, his face radiant—the first time in weeks. Lady Mirelle smiled broadly. Even Earl William, usually perpetually grim, looked slightly relieved.
"Lord Götthain!" Lord Harald clapped his shoulder—a hard slap that nearly knocked him over. "Good news! Eighty thousand soldiers led personally by Duke Leopold. They'll arrive before sunset."
Albert stared at the map. The red lines encircling Vallenwood were still there. But to the south, a thick blue line was beginning to advance.
"The enemy?"
"Not yet. We've sent scouts. Within an hour, we'll know their reaction."
One hour...
Albert sat in a chair—his legs could no longer hold him. Luise stood beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
"They'll probably retreat," Albert said.
Lord Harald turned. "You think so?"
"They've already lost too much. Morale is shattered, supplies are running low, and now they have to face fresh new troops." Albert gazed at the map. "Their commander would be a fool to hold his position under these conditions."
"But they could hold their camp, face a counter-siege?"
"No." Albert shook his head. "Look at their position. Camp in the lowlands, surrounded by hills. If the new forces come from the south and we attack from the north, they'll be trapped. No safe route to retreat."
Lord Harald nodded slowly. "Then we wait."
***
They didn't have to wait long.
Two hours later, from atop the watchtower, Albert saw it.
Outside the eastern wall, the enemy camp began to stir. But not advancing—retreating. Tents were taken down. Equipment was packed. Troops began marching north, abandoning their siege positions.
"Look," Luise whispered beside him.
Albert watched. Thousands of tiny figures moved like ants abandoning a nest. Orderly, not panicked, but unmistakable—they were retreating.
"They don't want to face eighty thousand fresh troops," Lord Harald murmured. "That commander... he's smart. Choosing an orderly retreat over annihilation."
In the distance, to the south, dust rose high into the air. The reinforcement force—eighty thousand soldiers—moved in long columns, banners fluttering, weapons glinting in the afternoon sun.
Albert stood atop the tower, watching both scenes at once. The enemy leaving. The reinforcements arriving.
The siege... was over.
"Congratulations," Luise said softly. "We held."
Albert didn't answer. He just stood there, feeling the evening wind against his face. In his head, for the first time in weeks, the voices were silent.
***
The sun was beginning to set when Albert returned to his room.
No ceremony, no celebration. The soldiers were too exhausted to cheer. They just sat on the walls, in the barracks, wherever they could, watching the enemy depart, watching the reinforcements arrive, and giving thanks that they were still alive.
Albert sat on the windowsill—the position that had become his over these long weeks. Outside, the sky was tinged orange-red, beautiful in a painful way.
In his hand, a piece of dried pastry—a gift from Lord Harald, meant for celebration. He didn't eat it. Just held it, feeling its texture.
The door opened.
Luise entered, carrying two cups. Not ordinary water—warm tea with honey. Luxury in a city that had just survived a siege.
"Where did you get this?" Albert asked.
"The reinforcements brought supplies." Luise sat on the floor, leaning her back against the wall—as always. "Sir Varin borrowed a little for his commander."
Albert almost smiled. "Borrowed?"
"Borrowed. With no intention of returning." Luise sipped her tea. "It's good."
Albert sipped his tea. Warm, sweet, soothing. It tasted like... life.
They sat in silence, enjoying the tea, enjoying the quiet that had finally come after so many weeks.
Outside, the sun began to sink below the western horizon. Orange, purple, red—colors he hadn't seen in a long time.
"Albert."
He turned. Luise was looking at him softly.
"Do you know what day it is?"
Albert frowned. "The date... the twenty-seventh?"
"Yes, but what month?"
Albert thought. Time had blurred in his head. Days had merged into one, indistinguishable.
"I don't know."
Luise smiled. A small, gentle smile. "It's the twenty-seventh of Grünmond—your eighteenth birthday."
Albert froze. Grünmond—in modern terms, June.
Eighteenth birthday...
Three years on the battlefield. Three years since he'd left Götthain as a boy. Three years since he first saw Luise, first killed in the name of the Kingdom of Helvetia.
Three years. And today, on the day he turned eighteen, the siege of Vallenwood ended.
"I didn't know," he repeated. His voice was hoarse. "I... forgot."
Luise nodded. "That's why I brought tea."
Albert looked at the tea in his hands. Warm. Sweet. The strangest birthday gift he'd ever received.
"I didn't expect this," he said quietly, gazing out the window, toward where the enemy had gone, toward where the reinforcements were setting up camp to the south. "I didn't expect that on my eighteenth birthday, this siege would end."
Luise didn't answer. But her hand—the hand that had always been ready to catch, always ready to protect, always ready to fight—reached for Albert's hand.
Her grip was warm and gentle.
"I'm here," she whispered.
Albert looked at their clasped hands. Then at Luise. Those violet eyes looked back at him, without hesitation, without fear.
For the first time in a long while, Albert felt... not alone.
Albert closed his eyes. His hand still held Luise's.
"Thank you," he whispered.
He wasn't sure what for. For the tea. For watching over his unit. For staying here, beside him, all these weeks. For never giving up on him.
For being the reason he was still alive.
Luise didn't answer. Just held his hand tighter.
The siege was over.
But the war... the war was not yet finished.
Yet tonight, for the first time, Albert didn't think about it. Tonight, he only felt the warmth of Luise's hand, and let himself live.